The world didn't stop for Damien Voss.
But the wedding did.
The church bells outside the Moreau estate kept ringing—mocking, echoing, celebrating a marriage that was now impossible. Guests whispered in confusion. The planners rushed around like frantic insects. Her mother cried into a lace handkerchief as if grief could erase the panic tightening around her expensive throat.
But Evelyn just stood in the center of her dressing room, frozen in white silk.
Her father barked orders to his servant . "Get the Voss patriarch —now. No—NOW. I don't care if they're dealing with his body, I want a statement within the hour!"
Evelyn felt like she was drifting outside herself, watching everything from a cracked window.
Damien was dead.
Not injured.
Not unconscious.
Dead.
Found alone. No struggle. No explanation.
Just… gone.
Her wedding gown suddenly felt like a joke. A costume for a play that had ended mid-scene.
"Evelyn!" her mother snapped, grabbing her arm so hard the beads on the sleeve dug into her skin. "Don't you dare fall apart right now. The reporters are gathering outside. The Voss family is furious. They think we're hiding something."
"Hiding what?" Evelyn whispered. "He just died."
Her mother's eyes were wild. "Men like Damien do not just die!"
Evelyn blinked.
Oh, but maybe they did.
Maybe they especially did.
A shiver cut through her body like an invisible blade.
Her mother squeezed harder. "Listen to me—this is a disaster. The contract, the partnership, your future, our future—"
Her voice kept going, spiraling, frantic, shallow.
Evelyn didn't hear it.
Not really.
A cold breeze threaded around her ankles, slow and deliberate. The candles on the vanity flickered violently. The pearls she'd tried to put back on for the ceremony snapped and spilled across the floor like scattered teeth.
Her skin prickled.
That feeling again.
Like someone was watching her.
Someone who wasn't supposed to be here.
Someone who didn't belong in this world.
She turned sharply—
Nothing.
Just shadows.
Just silence.
Just the echo of a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
The Hallway
A staff member escorted her toward the main staircase to "check on her."
She didn't need checking on.
She needed answers.
Halfway down the hall, she paused. A door was cracked open—the groom's suite, sealed off by Moreau security. Yellow tape hung crookedly across the frame. Someone must've rushed.
Her escort turned. "Miss Moreau, you can't—"
But she was already walking toward it.
She had to see.
She had to know.
Inside, the room was dim, lit only by a single lamp knocked onto its side. The air was heavy, oppressive. She felt like she was stepping into someone's last breath.
The staff had already moved Damien's body, but the shape of that moment remained.
A glass of champagne on the floor.
A watch snapped.
A cufflink crushed under a heel.
A smear on the dresser that looked like… dust.
Not blood.
Not anything human.
Dust.
Cold seeped into her bones.
And then—
Something whispered behind her ear.
"Mine."
Evelyn spun around, heart slamming into her ribs.
No one was there.
Just the empty doorway.
Just the echo of a voice that shouldn't exist.
Just the faint scent of smoke… or ash.
She stumbled back.
"Miss Moreau?" her escort called from outside. "You're not supposed to be in there."
She didn't move.
For a moment, she couldn't.
It felt like something in the shadows was smiling.
Back in the Dressing Room
Guests were leaving. Some crying, some gossiping like vultures. The Moreau estate was buzzing with scandal, fear, accusations.
Her father stormed in, face flushed. "The Voss family is demanding an immediate investigation. They think Damien was poisoned. They say you should be questioned."
Evelyn blinked. "Me?"
"You were the last person to see him alive."
"No," she whispered. "No, I wasn't."
Her father's jaw clenched. "Do not get hysterical. You will cooperate with investigators, you will keep your mouth shut, and you will protect this family. Do you understand?"
Evelyn didn't answer.
She looked down at her hands.
They were trembling.
Not from fear.
From… recognition.
Something had happened.
Something had shifted.
Something had claimed Damien before she could be chained to him forever.
And deep down—deep, deep down—part of her wasn't sorry.
Part of her felt…
Freed.